The Subtle Sin of Stealing God's Glory

May I tell you a story?

There once was a man named Naaman, a respected commander in the

army of Syria, who suffered from leprosy. A young servant girl originally

from Israel told his household about the prophet Elisha, who could heal

him.

Naaman went to Israel with riches and a letter from the king. After

some confusion, he was sent to Elisha. Instead of a grand healing, Elisha

simply instructed him to wash in the Jordan River seven times.

At first, Naaman was offended and angry—the instruction seemed too

simple. But after listening to his servants, he humbled himself, obeyed,

and was completely healed. His flesh was restored like that of a child.

Overwhelmed, Naaman returned to Elisha, declaring that there is no

God except the God of Israel. He offered gifts in gratitude, but Elisha

refused, making it clear that God’s work could not be bought.

The Account of Gehazi

After Naaman left, Gehazi, Elisha’s servant, saw an opportunity for

personal gain. He reasoned that his master had been too generous in

refusing the gifts.

So Gehazi secretly pursued Naaman and falsely claimed that Elisha had

sent him, asking for silver and clothing for visiting prophets.

Naaman gladly gave even more than was requested. Gehazi took the

gifts, hid them, and returned to Elisha as if nothing had happened.

But Elisha, through the Spirit, knew exactly what Gehazi had done. He

confronted him:

“Was this the time to accept money…?”

Because of his deceit and greed, Elisha declared that Naaman’s leprosy

would now cling to Gehazi and his descendants.

Gehazi left Elisha’s presence leprous—his skin white as snow.

So, the servant Gehazi wanted to have the reward that was meant for

Elisha and saw no problem in taking it. 2 Kings 5

How does this apply to me?

I am a servant of Jesus Christ, just as Gehazi was the servant of Elisha.

The question is—do I want the reward, the glory, of faithful service that

belongs to God alone?

What a temptation it is to steal a little of it, justifying it to myself by

saying, “God is so good and generous—why shouldn’t I have a small

portion of the glory? Why shouldn’t I take some reward for my labor?”

In this story, Commander Naaman brought an extravagant offering: the

equivalent of 750 pounds of silver, 150 pounds of gold, and ten sets of

clothing to give to Elisha. Elisha refused it all. Yet Gehazi ran after

Naaman and asked for only a portion—75 pounds of silver and two sets

of clothing—and Naaman gave him double that amount.

Perhaps Gehazi reasoned within himself,

“I am being quite fair. Naaman brought so much, and I am only taking a

little. It’s not a big deal. In fact, my master was foolish not to take

anything. I am simply being wiser.”

But at its core, it was taking what was not his and was never meant for

him.

What does this look like in modern Christian life?

Suppose I visit someone in the hospital at the request of my pastor—an

act of compassion and care. I go, I sit with the patient, a fellow believer,

and we share in meaningful conversation and prayer. As I leave, I feel

good about myself. I may even quietly congratulate myself for being

faithful and dutiful.

Is that wrong?

Not necessarily—but it becomes dangerous when the focus subtly

shifts. When the quiet satisfaction of obedience turns into a sense of

personal credit… when the heart begins to say, “I did that well,” instead

of, “Lord, you allowed me to serve.”

That is where the line begins to blur.

The issue is not the act of service—it is the ownership of the glory.

It is not a sin to feel joy or happiness when we have done something

well, or when someone offers us a compliment or even a gift. In each of

these moments, the joy, the affirmation, or the gift may indeed be from

the Lord. I think of them as kisses on the cheek or postcards from

heaven—the gentle sense that God is pleased with you, that the Holy

Spirit is communing with you in love.

God is love, and anything done in His service, or any prayer offered

from the heart, positions us to experience His presence—and therefore

His love. Jesus made this possible through the cross. Because of Him,

His children can genuinely experience love, joy, and the other fruits of

the Spirit as gifts from Him.

Is God’s Love enough for me?

Where the subtle sin of stealing God’s glory begins is here: when,

instead of receiving His love as the reward, we begin to want more,

eventually doing things out of selfish ambition or conceit. Philippians

2:3-4

This is such a quiet temptation, yet one of the enemy’s most consistent

whispers—just as in the garden: “You deserve more.” The moment I

agree with that voice, I step onto dangerous ground. Like Gehazi, I

begin running after something that was never mine to take.

At that point, I am no longer simply receiving I am grasping. I move

from gratitude into entitlement, from surrender into subtle rebellion,

justifying the shift in my heart. This is how deceptive the sin nature is

within all of us—it pivots so quickly we may not even recognize it.

Gehazi ran swiftly after Naaman’s caravan—and so can we if we are not

watchful.

How do I anticipate my temptation to steal God’s Glory?

To guard against this, we must learn to anticipate the temptation again

and again. Humility is formed through the conscious, repeated internal

choice to die to self. The crucified life—the life that conforms us to

Christ—is practiced in these moments when we refuse to chase after

glory that belongs to God alone.

We must cultivate a deep trust in God’s goodness and live anchored in

His sovereignty. This means growing daily—hourly—in our dependence

on Him for everything: mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

We must also be alert to the subtle thoughts that rise within us—those

moments when we feel overlooked, slighted, or “cheated,” or when we

begin to question whether God really knows what He is doing. Gehazi

likely wrestled with similar thoughts as he watched Elisha refuse

Naaman’s gifts.

We may not always understand our master’s ways. We may not like

them. But Jesus has broad shoulders. We are invited to bring our

confusion, disappointment, and even our hurt honestly before Him in

prayer and surrender.

What we must not do is run after His glory as if we are entitled to it.

Because like Gehazi, if we do, we may learn a very hard lesson.